A change of Occupation
by GenderlessPerson
Summary: All he wanted was to live a normal life (as normal as an immortal can anyway)… So why did he have to be roped into the Mafia after finally gaining his freedom? And damn you Death for being such a bloody git! MoD!Harry, Harry as Skull.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **All he wanted was to live a normal (as normal as an immortal can anyway) life… Why did he have to be roped into the Mafia after finally gaining his freedom!? And damn you Death for being a bloody git! MoD!Harry, Harry as Skull.

**Main Pairing: **Harry Potter (Skull) / Undecided

**Side Pairing(s): **Canon pairings _for now_

**Warning: **AU, MoD!Harry, Mentions of rape, abuse &amp; cannibal, Slash (Male and Male Relationship), HP as Skull

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or Katekyo Hitman Reborn… obviously

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

_Location: Azkaban_

In one of the many cells at Azkaban, a man in his late 100s stared blankly at the dirty walls he had wholly memorized during his century old stay in prison. He knew every nook, cranny, and cracks from the constant gazing he did daily. He would be a considered ancient by Muggle standards, however his appearance was deceiving. He looked no more than seventeen, and had not aged even a day after he had gathered all three Hallows in his hands.

_He regretted ever opening the Christmas gift he had received at eleven by Dumbledore._

After the demise of one Tom Marvolo Riddle, or better known as Lord Voldemort to the public, the Wizarding world decided that tossing him into Azkaban was the best way to repay his kindness. They proclaimed him an uprising Dark Lord, already with an army at his back and call.

_He regretted saving those fools who relied on a teenager to save them. _

Not only was he given an unfair trail, he was also betrayed by those he thought were his family. The Weasleys said that they thought of him as one of them, however when he was being _judged_, they spouted nonsense and proclaimed him a dastardly person whom constantly lied to gain attention – they also said that he had raped the youngest Weasley, Ginevra, after monologue-ing how he would trick the people into believing him a savior before claiming the title of Dark Lord.

_He regretted ever befriending Ronald Bilius Weasley and trusting the entire redheaded family._

What he didn't expect when he was being dragged out of the court by Aurors, was that Draco had stood up from his seat and demanded for his release, and for everyone to reconsider what they were intending to do to their savior. Draco fought hard for him, but it was all for naught. He was grateful though, and he had smiled in gratitude as the Aurors manhandled him away, Draco's shameful eyes looking at him in stubborn determination.

_He regretted ever declining Draco's hand of friendship back when he was still a naïve little eleven year old._

The first week inside Azkaban was a nightmare for him. The memories of his childhood, betrayals, and war, had raged through his head when a Dementor got close to his cell, tormenting him and tearing apart what little sanity he has. He was able to fight the Dementors' effects for the first few months, thinking stupidly that the Ministry would let him out and jokingly say that it was all a mistake. Of course, as expected, nobody came apart from the guards and Dementors.

_He regretted ever hoping for a hero to save him. _

After a few decades had passed, he feared the human guards more than the Dementors. They would defile him in many ways, laughing as he cried and begged for them to stop. He feared a person's touch more than the chill of those creatures. He wanted everything to stop, so he slit his throat using a sharp stone that used to be a piece of the wall. He should have known that it would not work.

_He regretted not letting the Dementors suck his soul rather than physically harming his own body._

The guards had seen him and announced him dead after an hour had passed, however he did not stay that way. He had suddenly coughed out a mouthful of blood, and was then shipped to the Unspeakables in order to test his immortal status – they greed for immortality. That was the most unforgettable experience in his life. They not only collected his (all of) body fluids for samples, but continued to kill him with different methods. From beheading to bleeding to death. Over and over and over. Again and again and again. That was the moment where he lost a portion of his sanity, and wanted the death of every Unspeakable. He did not remember how he had managed to escape their restraints and maimed them beyond recognition.

_He regretted not mastering his wandless Magic during his time at Hogwarts._

When he came to his senses, he was back in his cell, fresh blood still on his skin and restraints wrapped firmly around his person. The guards left him alone for a few months, but continued their treatment after that. When he was alone, he trained himself in the art of meditation, and because of this, his mentality was fortified. The Dementors had little to no effect over him now, and he was determined to become an animagus – a way for him to escape the human tormentors of his. Unless they were into bestiality that is.

_He regretted slacking and playing around when he was still a student._

After he had managed to become an animagus, he always transformed when in the company of humans – they left his panther [1] form alone in fear of him sinking his fangs into their flesh. He had managed to kill all the guards that had entered his cell, but there was no way out for him. The Ministry had applied a Magic absorption rune inside his cell, and a ward to keep him from leaving, immediately after his sentence after all. He was basically a Muggle, and he was lucky that the transformation did not require the usage of Magic outside of his body. As punishment for killing the guards, he was left without food. He ate the meat of those he had killed, too famished to care that he was becoming a cannibal.

_He regretted ever knowing the taste of human flesh. _

The meals from then on were always rotten meat, or fellow prisoners that had their souls eaten by the Dementors. He had hurled their bodies away in disgust at first, but when hunger took over, he ate with only tears as his company. It became the usual for him, and now he did not bat an eyelid even if he were given a single arm to feast on. He would gladly eat any meat, in both human and panther form.

_It was addictive, juicy and much tenderer than any animal meats._

Time flew by and he got used to his lifestyle. Sit in his cell to stare at the walls when the meat–… humans were patrolling, and exercise when alone. Wait for his meal, and eat anything they threw at him, no matter how rotten or disgusting it looked. Continue to meditate and exercise control of his inner Magic. Sleep when he was tired. Rinse and repeat.

Now after almost two centuries had passed by, he grew more impatient and fidgeted more. He wanted out of this cell of his, and he was currently in the middle of brainstorming –

"Prisoner 473." a person he did not recognized smiled at him from outside of his cell. The portly man had guards flunking him as if he were royalty.

Harry, how long he had not used his name even in his mind, only gazed at the man with blank eyes. After a few minutes of nothing but tensed (on their part) silence, he moved his gaze away to stare at the walls. It was much more interesting than the man's pimpled plump face.

"How dare you turn away from the Minister – when Minister Hisass was kind enough to grace someone as lowly as yourself with his presence!?" he did not need to turn to know that that was mea–human guard number 12 that yelled, offended on the Minister's behalf.

"Calm yourself, Geoffrey." The Minister (do all Ministers need to look incompetent to get elected?) said sternly before his voice was directed at Harry, full of insincere kindness. "How about a deal, Mr. Potter? I will free you from this prison in exchange for the location of the Resurrection Stone."

Harry only remained silent. He had expected someone to turn up and ask him the location of the Hallows, but he had not expected that it would be so late. He wondered idly what was happening outside of Azkaban. Did another Dark Lord pop up? If so, he would cheer for said Dark Lord and wish for the Magical world's doom.

"Mr. Potter, I know that you are displeased, and I completely understand. Having been here for more than a century would make anybody bear a grudge against the Ministry. But you have to understand… I am dearly in need of the Stone, before the other countries get their hands on it. You are still a citizen of Magical Britain – you are required to help your country."

Required to help? That was what they said when they told him about the prophecy. He was _required_ – destined – to save Magical Britain from the big bad Dark Lord Voldemort. Where did he end up after having saved his country? In prison. That's where.

_He regretted ever killing Riddle._

"You must understand, Mr. Potter, that the previous Minister, Fudge, had no choice but to detain you. You were harboring an army of Dark Wizards and Witches. I wish no ill upon gaining the Hallows, and will lock those three artifacts in the deepest of Goblin Vaults."

There was a slight edge in the tone the portly Minister used, and he recognized it as impatience. Harry only drew circles on the ground where he sat crossed legged. He suddenly felt a craving for _pig_ intestine pie. His emerald eyes shone underneath his messy bangs, and he lowered his head to hide the demented grin that appeared on his cracked and dry lips.

"You don't need to feel guilty of what you have done," The Pig (in his eyes) spoke kindly, misunderstanding the reason for his bowed head. "Let bygones be bygones… However if that does not satisfy you, the location of the stone would lighten up my days considerably."

Suddenly, as if a dam broke inside of him, Harry laughed – a high pitched deranged one that he idly recalled as Voldemort's signature laugh. He inwardly shrugged and continued, feeling amused at their respectively shocked, wary, and fearful expressions on their faces. When he finally stopped (his throat hurt like hell), he rose to stand and gave them a closed eye smile. It was an expression that didn't suit him, and his _visitors_ shuddered in unison.

"I demand that you give me the location of the Stone this instance!" The Minister all but shouted, his patience lost and all that remained was his reddened and angry face.

"Why don't we negotiate, Minister?" Harry's voice was a mere whisper, his throat too raw to speak louder.

"Very well." Pig grunted after a few moments of silence. "What is your demand?"

"To be thrown into the Veil inside the Death Chamber."

He could see that the Pig of a Minister was absolutely thrilled by the idea, though the Pig-human hybrid tried to hide it.

"That can be arranged."

"I shall disclose the information to you once I am but a few steps away from the Veil, Minister."

"Now, Mr. Potter, how can I know that you will tell the truth?" The empty smile on his face remained, unaffected as the man pointed his wand to Harry. He wasn't afraid of being under the Cruciatus curse, or pain in any form. Death was also a welcome to him.

"An Unbreakable vow, perhaps?"

"As if I will risk my own arm to make one with you, Mr. Potter."

"Of course of course… Perhaps I could swear on my Magic that I will disclose the whereabouts of the Stone – and you shall do the same on your part of the deal."

They were silent. Harry waited. He has all of eternity, where they only have a limited amount of time.

"By all means, take your time." He taunted mockingly.

"I, Ozias Jasper Hisass, swear on my Magic that I will bring Harry James Potter into the Death Chamber, but only if he were to swears that he knows the truthful location of the Resurrection Stone here and now." was grudgingly said through gritted teeth.

"Then I, Harry James Potter, swear on my Magic that I will truthfully disclose the location of the Resurrection Stone as I know it, to Ozias Jasper Hisass, but only if I were to stand directly in front of the Veil inside of the Death Chamber – unrestrained."

"Swear that you won't attack, maim, or kill, anybody on our way to the Death Chamber." The Pig paused for a moment before he continued. "And no detours." Damn.

He hummed as if in thought, but inwardly he was pleased. "I also swear on my Magic that I will be escorted to the Death Chamber without taking any detours, and will not attack, maim, or kill, anybody on our way there… and will only do so if threatened."

"So mote it be."

Harry felt, more than see his Magic react to the vow.

"Guards, unlock the cell and take off his restraints."

The guards were wary as they unlocked and entered his cell, but Harry only gazed at them emptily as they removed the wrists and ankles chains from him, before pushing him – quite roughly he might add – out of the cell.

He closed his eyes and bathed in the feeling of his Magic leaking out of his pores, chilling everyone in the area, worse than any Dementor could make them feel. When his eyes snapped opened, they glowed with unrestrained power, and Harry laughed as the guards and Minister immediately had their wands pointed at him in caution. He noted that their hands were shaking terribly, but he only chuckled and walked forward. He licked his chapped lips, hoping that one of them would attack his unguarded back – he would be allowed to kill the person in '_defense'_, as per stated in the vow.

When they were outside in the open, the Pig of a Minster took out a portkey and Harry placed a finger on it. The guards bowed to the Minister, and only after the two disappeared did they turn back to continue their duties.

_OOOO_

The walk to the Death Chamber was mildly amusing to Harry, and nerve wrecking to the Minister. Majority of the community only knew of Harry in stories or books, but his appearance was undisclosed to the future generations. Thanks to this, everyone only treated him like a mere criminal due to his Azkaban uniform, however when a Witch with long red hair had stopped in front of the Minister, Harry just knew that the woman was a Weasley.

His eyes roamed her body, and he raised a delicate brow at the state of her clothes. It was not hand me downs. They were new, and he could see the quality of it was high. He hummed absentmindedly as if he was not paying attention to anything, and dived into her mind when she looked at him in curiosity.

The vow did not say anything about Legilimencing someone.

What he found out wasn't much of a shock to him. In fact, he had expected it. This woman, Lavender Selena Weasley, is Ron and Hermione's great granddaughter. Ron had once unintentionally informed Lavender when he was drunk, that the Weasley family was once poor, but thanks to Harry's vaults, they became one of the richest families in the Wizarding World.

He continued to hum as he exited her mind, she not even noticing that her mind had been breached. After a few more minutes of the Minister and her conversing, Harry began to lose patience. Sure he would've loved to see what had changed in the time he has spent in Azkaban, but he was impatient as well. The faster he enters the Veil, the better.

"Who is this, Minister? If I may ask?" Lavender glanced at Harry shyly.

Harry knew that he was considered more on the above average side in the looks department, but won't his tangled long hair, and torn prison uniform turn anybody off? He doubted that he was decent to even look at currently. He could feel that the dirt and sweat and other things he would love nothing more than to wash off, were on his skin – he was caked in unidentified things. He must smell horrid as well.

"Ah… T-this is…" The Minister wiped the sweat on his cheek with a handkerchief nervously.

"Harry." He replied. He needed entertainment after a century of wall gazing. "Harry Potter. I used to go to school with your great grandparents – your family really should've visited to at least thank me for making them rich." He answered in a bored whispery monotone, as if he had not just proclaimed to be the Wizarding world's _fallen_ savior.

Weaselette only gapped at him in disbelief, and took an unconscious step back, obvious fear in those blue eyes of hers. The Pig sputtered and excused them hurriedly before he led – quite forcefully – Harry towards the elevator.

When they were the only two inside, Harry ignored the man's ranting about keeping his identity secret and all that rot. He didn't care and tuned the Pig-human hybrid out. They arrived at the Death Chamber soon after, and the Minister stood a few meters away from the Veil and Harry, his wand pointed directly at Harry's heart.

"Well?" The Pig impatiently questioned.

Harry turned around, his back facing the Veil, and tilted his head to the side as he stared into the Minister's eyes.

"The Resurrection stone is at Hogwarts, the Forbidden Forest to be exact."

"Where in the forest?"

"I don't know." Harry smiled a blood thirsty smile, whilst the Minister paled yet glared at Harry at the same time.

"What do you mean you do not know!? You swore –"

"That I would disclose the location _as I know it_. The last I saw the Stone was at the Forbidden Forest – where I threw it carelessly away. It might even be inside an animal's belly, or crap actually."

"Y-you…!"

"Well then… It was nice knowing you, Minister. You are as incompetent as Fudge, I might add." He pointed at the Pig, who was throwing spell after spell at him. He didn't even bother to block them, as they were weak enough to _bounce_ off of him without problem. "Avada Kedavra."

The Minister dropped dead the second he uttered those words. "You should've demanded that I be unable to attack or kill whilst still inside the Death Chamber, and not only when we are on our way here, Minister. This is why you're incompetent."

He took one last look at the Chamber he was in, and fell backwards into the Veil, fully intending to die and greet Death with a middle finger for being a bastard – and for making him immortal.

_He regretted a lot of things, but most of all… he regretted ever stepping into the Magical World._

* * *

**A/N: I have a FB group, so join if you feel like it. The link is on my profile.**

I really really really wanted to make a KHR/HP xover fic for who knows how long! I've always been a fan of Skull, and I personally feel that everyone is severely underestimating his worth. I mean, he's an Arcobaleno, the seventh most strongest who are selected to be the holders of the pacifiers. So now… In the kingdom of fanfic… I shall make him powerful! Buahhahaahaha!

[1] The reason why I chose a Panther for Harry's animagus form, is because of the meanings behind the animal. Black Panther is the symbol of the death and rebirth, understanding of death, ability to know the dark, and aggressiveness. They are graceful, silent, and generally loners – extremely comfortable with themselves and are often drawn to other solitary people.

You all can vote who you want Harry/Skull to be paired with. One person per vote only though! I personally prefer to have no threesomes or harems. I am a person who dislikes any form of cheating or 'playing around'. One person to devote to is enough in my eyes.

Story recommendation for today: **Skull de Mort: Stuntman, Arcobaleno, Wizard!** By Love-is-Cyanide. I was inspired by this story. Harry left the Wizarding world after the war, and went to Italy – became a stuntman. He's immortal, so he has no problem with riding his bike dangerously. Even though Harry became Skull, and was stronger than the others, he was considered the Lackey because… of a misunderstanding at first. He thought that Reborn had used Magic to change his chameleon to a gun, so he had freaked out. Reborn thought that Skull was afraid of being shot, and proclaimed him the Lackey! It's a great story, so read it! I'm unsure if it's Slash though.

_**Rainbows and Meat Lovers,  
GenderlessPerson**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **All he wanted was to live a normal life (as normal as an immortal can anyway)… So why did he have to be roped into the Mafia after finally gaining his freedom!? And damn you Death for being such a bloody git! MoD!Harry, Harry as Skull.

**Main Pairing: **Harry Potter (Skull) / Undecided

**Side Pairing(s): **Canon pairings _for now_

**Warning: **AU, MoD!Harry, Mentions of rape, abuse &amp; cannibal, Slash (Male and Male Relationship), HP as Skull

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or Katekyo Hitman Reborn… obviously

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

_Date: November 1950  
Location: Italy, Florence _

He bolted up from bed with tangled up blankets around his legs, his whole body covered in a layer of cold sweat, as he hastily scanned his surroundings – inwardly terrified at the prospect that he was back in his _beloved_ cell at Azkaban. His face remained impassive all throughout his panicked observation, however when he finally recalled what had transpired, he fell back with a tired sigh.

It has already been a week, but to him, it felt like it was just yesterday. After he had entered the Veil, he was wholly disappointed. He had expected to be shredded or disintegrated, but he was only greeted by Death, whose personality was depressing by the way, and thrown into another World where Magic does not exist. Well, that was only half true anyway. _His_ form of Magic does not exist, but there was another kind.

A high density form of energy that was refined from one's own life force – the Dying Will Flame, or Deathperation Flame. All humans were gifted with these, however only a selected few are able to call out their Dying Will. He found out that these Flames were regarded as the symbol of the Mafia World, the Underground, and civilians were clueless about them – just like how Muggles were clueless about Magic.

Death, that depressing git, had gifted him with powers of this World (or dimension). He still retained his Magic of course, but he had decided not to use them unless in dire situations – he did not wish for a repeated experience in being experimented on due to his… uniqueness. He was unique, not a freak of nature. Oh, he would of course, continue to train in his wandless Magic in private. He didn't want his (sadly limited) skills to deteriorate.

He made an uncomfortable sound from the back of his throat at the memories of being toyed with by those evil _surgeons_ that called themselves Unspeakables, and slipped out of his bed. He sluggishly walked towards his bathroom, intending for a nice relaxing bath. He liked baths (an understatement). They reminded him that he was no longer denied basic hygiene. He was lucky that he did not develop OCD. Well, he did have a habit of wearing gloves and washing his hands frequently. But he did not have OCD. Really.

Whilst he waited for his tub to be filled by warm water, he brushed and flossed his teeth. When he was finished, he submerged himself and closed his eyes in satisfaction. He could stay underwater for an indefinite amount of time due to his immortality. His body would just 'reset' after he died anyway. The burning he felt in his lungs was kind of a pleasant sensation actually. And no, he was not a masochist.

The amount of time he stayed was unknown to him, but when he stepped out of his bathroom with only a towel tied around his waist, the sun was already high up the sky. He sighed a third time and donned on a pair of gloves, before he threw on some random shirt and pants – forgoing undergarments as per usual.

"Should start with making my own identity…" He murmured to himself as he headed towards his apartment door.

He suddenly halted in his steps and frowned. He was, as much as he loathed to admit it, incompetent with all electronic devices thanks to his years at Hogwarts. There was no way for him to make himself an identification card and passport without the aid of Magic or connections.

"Perhaps a change of appearance first…?" He nodded to himself before he turned on his heel and strode to his bedroom.

He stood in front of a full sized mirror and studied himself. He appeared still in his teens, but he could pass off as a baby-faced young adult (in his eyes anyway) if he wore mature clothing. His used to be long ebony hair had been cut short after his arrival in this World, and he could only compare it to that of a bird's nest. It was untamable and frankly, he had given up trying to comb it. His eyes were still the same shape, however the color made him seem almost… inhumane to be frank. They glowed in the dark, and in the light, they would be the brightest shade of green, similar to that of an emerald jewel – or the Killing Curse. They were also framed by long thick lashes, and he scowled at how girly they looked. He was proud that his eyes were the same as his mother's, but as a male, it was a blow to his manly pride.

He tilted his head slightly to the left. Perhaps he should dye his hair and wear contacts? His favorite color used to be red, but thanks to the Weasleys and Auror guards, he came to loathe said color. He definitely did not want to be a redhead. Perhaps purple? It was a unique color, and he was always fond of grape juice – he drank pumpkin juice just so he could fit in the definition of _norm_.

That settles it then. He would have purple hair and eyes. And maybe he should wear makeup? He heard that makeup could be used to _change_ the bone structure of one's face. He could make himself look less like Harry Potter.

* * *

He hummed a random tune as he read the instructions on the back of the (non-chemical) dye box in his hand. It appeared easy enough. He donned on a pair of plastic disposable gloves and added water into the mixture bottle afterwards, before thoroughly shaking it.

After he was satisfied with the now perfectly combined paste, he placed some wet tissues onto his forehead for protection, before he applied the dye just like how the instructions said so, his eyes narrowed in what was known to be concentration as he stared into his bathroom mirror. Hair roots first…

The process took longer than expected, and when he was finally done – it literally took him a whole hour – he ran a hand through him now violet hair. His first dye-job was alright, but it could be better. Some areas were a little lighter than others. It wasn't that obvious so he chose to ignore it.

His eyes then settled onto the customized purple contact lenses sitting innocently next to the sink tap. It had been such a pain to get those. Cornea only contact lenses were made at the year 1950, and it was extremely expensive and was only affordable by rich people. He deemed it a dire situation and had used the Imperius Curse on the shop manager – he was broke after spending ¾ of the money the depressed git had given him to buy the current apartment he was in.

He, with much difficulty, inserted the lenses, before he idly grabbed one of his (new) makeup brushes.

First he needed a name – a cool name. He hummed a funeral march as he tapped his chin with the brush. He wasn't really good with names. He remembered naming a garter snake he had befriended GS; short for garter snake. Very _creative_. He snorted at his own thoughts and started painting – contouring – his face. Maybe he should name himself after someone he knew? He thought back to all the Wizards he had met before his imprisonment. He couldn't maintain his impassive expression and grimaced.

Dumbledore was a bastard manipulator who used him as a pawn, obliviating him every time he showed signs of rebelling or lashed out violently. Snape was a greasy git who can't see pass his jealousy and hatred over James, and took it out on Harry. Sirius looked at Harry and expected Harry to be his (dead) best friend, not his godson. Remus was a coward who ran the moment Sirius was killed, abandoning Harry in the process. The Weasleys are all traitors, nuff said. Lucius had a long and non-removable stick up his arse. Draco was someone he was grateful to, however he did not know the blonde well enough to respect him. He sighed and idly blended the _face paint_. He could not think of any–

Wait a second.

He suddenly smirked. Of course there was one that he held deep respect for; Tom Riddle. Even though Riddle was a megalomaniac who suffers delusions of his own importance, Harry could not deny that Riddle was strong. Stronger than anyone he knew. The man was a genius, and he could have made the Magical world prosper if he had used said genius by political means. If he had broken free of Dumbledore's control, he would have definitely ran to join Riddle. Surely the man would not kill his own Horcrux right?

He shrugged. The past was the past. Brooding over it was a waste of time.

He suddenly brightened. He could name himself after Riddle since he respected the man… however… He deflated and jutted his lower lip out. The name Tom was too plain. He traced his lips with a dark purple lipstick as he scowled. Perhaps he could use Voldemort since it originated from Riddle's true name anyway.

He juggled the name in his thoughts for a while. He didn't like the meaning behind Voldemort. He was not scared of that depressed git. His scowled lessened and he took a four palette purple eyeshadow. He could use de Mort as his last name though; in commemoration to Riddle, and Death wouldn't mind Harry using it – the entity may be a depressed git, but he was an _amusing_ depressed git. He drew a teardrop underneath his left eye with the purple lipstick absentmindedly.

Now… What should his first name be? He tried to think of anything that was in relation to Voldemort as he traced his lash and waterline with an eyeliner. Death Eaters? Slytherin? Dark Lord? Snakes? Red eyes? Egoistic bastard? Morsmordre? Hmm… He thought about the last one as he curled his lashes, before he elongated them with mascara.

"… Skull…" he whispered.

Not bad. Not bad at all. _Skull_ because Voldemort was obsessed with skulls – Harry, now named Skull, knew that since he was in Voldy's head most of the time during fifth to seventh year. The Dark Mark was patterned to be a skull because teenage Riddle was fascinated with them.

He set aside his makeup tools and gazed into the mirror. He blinked in surprise when he saw his own reflection. He looked quite different from Harry Potter… and so much cooler! His lips suddenly twitched and he laughed. It wasn't' the high pitched evil cackle, but a more pleasant and exuberant laugh.

"Skull de Mort is who I shall be from now on."

* * *

**A/N: I have a FB group, so join if you feel like it. The link is on my profile.**

Hmm… I'm a huge fan of Reborn, and it's tempting to pair him with Skull… However, I don't think that the relationship would work due to Reborn's violent streak and _'I'm the best' _attitude. I think I'll be going for Fon… Or maybe even Bermuda (why did nobody vote for him!?). Anyway, don't worry about the pairing too much. This story won't be based on romance – it's more of a side dish, or a cherry on top of a triple layered chocolate fudged cake. Besides, I suck at writing romance (a reason why the Harrys at my other stories are oblivious)! Insert shrug here.

The updates (for all three stories) will be slower than my usual pace for the month of February, sadly. I apologize. Real life's such a boring and dreadful game.

Story recommendation for today:** On the Horizon** by breather. This story is about Harry finding out that he's Reborn's grandson. He happened to find an incomplete divorce file from his grandparents, mother's side, and poked around a bit. When he found that he has a living relative other than those Dursleys, he went to seek Reborn out – and nearly got his brains blown out by his own grandfather. It's really interesting, and new. The pairing is unknown, however it's slash (I have a feeling that Harry will be paired with Fon).

_**Rainbows and Skeletons,  
GenderlessPerson**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** All he wanted was to live a normal life (as normal as an immortal can anyway)… So why did he have to be roped into the Mafia after finally gaining his freedom!? And damn you Death for being such a bloody git! MoD!Harry, Harry as Skull.

**Main Pairing:** Harry Potter (Skull) / Undisclosed

**Side Pairing(s):** Canon pairings, although some will change in the future

**Warning:** AU, MoD!Harry, Mentions of rape, abuse, and cannibalism, Slash (MxM), HP as Skull de Mort

**Disclaimer:** Why do I have to put this in every chapter? Harry Potter and KHR obviously isn't own by me.

* * *

Chapter 3: Meat and Ramen

[**Chapter Warning:** This chapter **contains cannibalism**. For those who have never watched Hannibal or dislike the idea of a human eating another, the back button is at the top left of your browser.]

* * *

_Date: November 1950_  
_Location: Italy, Florance, a random nearby Park from his apartment_

Harry - though he would try harder to call himself Skull even within the privacy of his mind - eyed the laughing children that were running all around the park from his seat on a nearby bench. Just watching them dart around happily was making him feel exhausted, but oh so hungry as well. He was beyond starving at this point of time. Harr-... Skull could not even recall the last time he had eaten. His stomach was simply too used to going about without food. It has caused him quite a headache a few times since he remembered dying from starvation due to how little nutrition he had consumed.

However, that won't be a problem soon enough if he had anything to say about it. He did not need to survive on expired meat or decaying flesh any longer since there was food all around him. Heck, even his neighbours were considered emergency food supplies in the eyes of Skull.

But back to the present. He wasn't at all bothered by the fact that he was staring at the children like they were something to be devoured whole. To him, they were simply just that. He had never had the chance to taste such young meat, but he was salivating just from the image of him sinking his sharper than normal teeth into their soft, vulnerable flesh and bones.

Ah, he wanted a sample from the sampling tray (playground). Surely they would not mind if he took a tiny bite?

So engrossed in his fantasy, Skull failed to take heed of the presence of a woman near him. It wasn't until she had cleared her throat, rather loudly he might add, to gain his attention did he notice. He mentally berated himself for being so unguarded and reluctantly tore his eyes away from the children. She was now more of a concern than them, and besides, it wasn't as children were a rare find.

Skull raised a questioning brow at the lady.

The woman appeared to be in her mid-twenties, with long curly black hair and moss green droopy eyes. She wore a fur hat, fur-lined ankle length trench coat, fur mittens, and fur heel boots. They were all coloured in grey. She was also carrying a small handbag on her forearm. This made him do a double-take and questioned if the fur ban has not been legalised yet. The poor animals... Skull made an important mental sticky note to avoid being in his animagus form anytime soon.

The clearing of her throat the second time made Skull blink before he refocused his attention to her. That was the second time he had dropped his guard. He was disappointed at himself for such.

The animal-coat-wearing woman glared at him with disapproving eyes, which he did not understand one bit. In fact, he should be the one who was glaring at her with repugnance and disapproval. Does she not know how many animals were being killed just so humans could swagger around in their fur? Very distasteful.

"Men who are attracted to children are the worst of human kind," She stated matter of factly in a _lectury_ tone. It took him a few seconds to process that she did not speak English, but Italian. Luckily he was able to learn any language via mental linking with his victims.

He could only tilt his head to one side curiously. Well, way to state something everyone knows, captain obvious. Skull was insane, not stupid. Paedophiles (or rapists in general) were indeed the worst type of trash out there. More so than murderers in the eyes of Skull. Now he was more confused as to why she specifically went up to him and said that. He wasn't interested in having intercourse with anyone, least of all children.

Not knowing what exactly she wanted and simply thinking that she perhaps wanted a 'conversation buddy' (park debut or something along those lines?), he turned back to his children watching, dismissing her completely. He was not interested in small talk, so please leave, thank you very much.

Now then, which one should he pick? Definitely not the fat one since they were too chewy. The dark haired boy looked to be nice to ea-

"If you do not stop ogling the children, I will alert the authorities!" was said with determined assurance. "Shame on you!"

_What?_

Was all his mind could conjure. Was this woman accusing Skull of being a _paedophile _searching for his next victim? He decided to just voice out his confusion since he doubted this dunderhead of a woman would leave him alone anytime soon. Perhaps he was just misunderstanding her since he did not have a social life after being thrown into Azkaban.

"What?"

"You heard me, boy." Skull barely contained a full body flinch at that word; _boy_. He succeeded with difficulty. "You will cease whatever disgusting thoughts you are thinking of doing to those children and leave here immediately!"

There went the prospect of him thinking that he had misunderstood her. It grated on his nerves - being ordered around that is. He valued his freedom, and just hearing the demand in her voice caused his fingers to twitch for the dagger hidden in his right boot. He resisted the temptation to simply skin her alive and relaxed his coiled muscles.

A deep breath later and he was relaxed with a look of amusement worn on his newly contoured features. This was not the wizarding world, and he was not Harry Potter. He didn't need to be the serious war hero. And besides, it would be as if he was entertaining a child thinking that they were better than him - the adult. It gave him amusement, so he simply stood up, hands within the pockets of his coat, and walked away.

But not before he threw some words over his shoulders, wanting her riled up.

"I'll be going then - to another park that is," He smirked over his shoulder at her as he sauntered away. "Don't follow me, woman."

The woman, as expected, rushed to catch up to him. What a naughty kid to disobey. Humans were amusing like that. Tell them to do something, and they would do the opposite. It was some kind of unsaid law.

She muttered lowly to herself about keeping an eye on him just in case he decided to prey on other children. It was as if she was trying to convince herself rather than him. That made him stifle a laugh. She was right, yet wrong at the same time. He had indeed been eyeing the children and planning to _prey_ on them, however, his plans have changed. Women meat was a delicacy during his stay in Azkaban, so having his first meal here be a woman made him salivate all the more. They were his favourite.

He licked his insanely sharp canines in excitement. He would need to stop by a store on his way back home for ingredients and a freezer. But first, he made another mental note to always entertain kids (adults and elderly were kids to him since he was over a century old) - after all, he needed his own form of enjoyment. The moment where his victim(s) would find out that he was a panther in sheep's clothing... That caused him to almost burst out in high pitched cackling. Was this what people called a _guilty pleasure?_

* * *

_Location: Skull's apartment, kitchen_

With skilled, nimble fingers, Skull scraped the skin off of the arm on his chopping board. He had only just finished with amputating the animal-fur-wearing woman's limb and was wisely preparing dinner whilst waiting for her to bleed out into his bathtub. He had always eaten his meal raw like a beast, but now that he was free, he would have dinner like any other human being - with cooked food and eating utensils.

Hopefully, she won't make too much a mess of his bathroom. Actually, he would rather hope that she didn't regain consciousness. Escape attempts were a pain when one was preparing his own dinner. Not to mention that it would cause his carpet and wooden floors to stain. The only blood useful to him, when splattered all over his home, were dragon blood. They removed stains, apparently. Not that dragons existed here.

He hummed a random tune as he worked, removing the bones and setting it aside. He could use it for soup later. Once he was done with preparing the meat, he dropped them all inside his cooking pot that was filled with already boiling curry. The recipe for Japanese curry was easy enough to remember even after his imprisonment. It was one of Dudley's many favorite foods after all.

Skull then placed the lid atop his pot and wiped his hands on his purple frilly apron with the words _My food is Deathly_, which was a gift from the depressed git, before heading towards the bathroom to check upon his victim.

Upon entering his bathroom, he paused to stare at the state it was in. The (now naked) woman, apparently, had regained consciousness only long enough to climb out of the bathtub she was roughly dropped into. That wasn't really the issue. The problem was that she had bled out onto his tiles, mat, and shower curtain. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and crouched down in order to check her pulse. It was silent. A bad and good thing.

It was bad because he was not able to punish her for bleeding all over the place. And good because he had had enough of her and just wanted to rid himself of her.

He took out a butcher's knife from within his apron pocket, which was charmed with an undetectable extension charm, and decided that this was a good time to harvest the more edible parts of her body. When he was done, he tossed those into his mini freezer, which was also charmed to be bigger on the inside, and locked it. He turned to what was left of the woman's body and discarded them all into a black trash bag. He would be dumping it into the sea soon, not wanting his home to smell like a smaller version of his cell.

With his eyes narrowed in concentration, he waved his hand and to his smug satisfaction, there was no more trace of him ever committing murder in this location. When his stomach grumbled, he blinked and rushed to his kitchen, where his curry smelt simply divine. He prepared a king size bowl and poured curry all over the rice inside, after having turned his stove off. His panther side has a big appetite so he doubted a normal bowl would be enough for him.

He sat down and immediately scooped a spoonful of rice to shove into his mouth. He wasn't so sure about the proper etiquette for meal time after so long, so he merely rushed to finish his food.

Whilst he ate, he thought about his future. He would require to be physically fit during his stay in Italy. He could, of course, simply move out of the country if he wanted no part with the local Mafia, but he had a feeling that staying here would be beneficial for him. If it was something he learnt from his time as Harry Potter, it was to trust his instincts and intuition. It had never led him wrong. The last time he had ignored them, he was shoved into Azkaban.

With that in mind, he took out a notepad and pen from his pocket and made a to-do list.

He needed a way to forge his identification papers in case the authorities somehow wanted to identify him, first and foremost. And as if the world was supporting his decision, a sound similar to a knock was heard. That caused Skull to freeze in place, his spoon halfway into his mouth. He tilted his head to the direction of the noise, wanting to confirm that it was indeed a knock. He knew that he had no friends or even acquaintances in this world, so perhaps his mind had conjured up the sound.

Was he that lonely? He mused with a self-depreciative smile.

When his ears definitely picked up the sound of knocking yet again, Skull admitted that that was probably someone knocking on his door. He lightly placed his spoon down and got up. He didn't bother to use the peep hole and just opened the door, still wearing the frilly apron, much to his inward mortification. He played it cool and tilted his chin upwards since he was of average height and the guy standing in front of him was not. Skull was not short. Really.

As he had previously mentioned, the guy was tall, and has short shaggy white hair, pale skin, and a pair of round framed glasses perched on his nose - it looked eerily like Skull's old ones when he was Harry. He was clothed in a green knee-length kimono with a red obi sash, and has an omamori (perhaps, since Skull wasn't sure) with some kind of Japanese symbol/writing sewn on it. Skull's eyes roamed lower and he had to blink at the combination of a pair of dark socks and weird wooden sandal-like shoes [1]. They didn't match at all in Skull's humble opinion - but what would he know, anyway? He wasn't that familiar with the Japanese culture, and he wasn't one to judge someone based on their clothing (except Dumbledore).

"Hiya, would you like to have some ramen with me?"

Skull could only stare at the strange man weirdly. Was it normal to knock on someone's door just to ask them if they wanted to eat together? And ramen was similar to spaghetti, right? Soup spaghetti perhaps. He couldn't quite recall. Anyway! That wasn't what he was supposed to be questioning.

"Why should, and would, I have _ramen_ with someone who I've never met before?" The way he pronounced the food was heavy with an accent, even to his own ears. "I hope for your sake that your profession isn't that of a kidnapper."

"A doorway is hardly the place to hold a conversation with someone. Shall we continue inside?"

Skull was once again shocked to silence as the man sidestepped around him to enter. He blinked dumbly when his hand was held and he was guided back towards his own kitchen. Skull stared at his own (heavily scarred) hand that was being engulfed by the albino's (he looked like an albino anyway) larger one. He had not worn his gloves since he had been cooking, and he greatly regretted that decision - along with not removing his apron. Heat rushed up to his cheeks and he threw the stranger's hand from his, as if it was something vile, and crushed the betraying thoughts of him enjoying another's innocent touch.

He cleared his throat to buy time and rid himself of the flush he just knew he was sporting. The other man simply smiled mysteriously, his eyes shaped in an upside down U behind those round glasses, as he sat down on the opposite of where Skull had sat previously, and pulled out a... bowl of _ramen_. How the hell did one keep a still hot (judging by the steam) bowl of soup spaghetti inside the hems of one's kimono? This world's humans have no Magic... Right?

"Do you make it a habit to intrude upon another's home often?" Skull started with nonchalance. His flustered irritation had worn off, and all that was left behind was mirth. The thought of simply intruding someone during their meal time was definitely amusing. Perhaps he would do that one day just for laughs.

The man's eyes sparkled with merriment. And there was Skull's confirmation. The stranger was interesting, that was for sure.

"Ah, what an interesting choice of curry you have prepared." Was the man's not-answer as he poked Skull's king size bowl with his chopsticks - which wasn't there just a second ago.

He snorted. This guy just does whatever the hell he wants huh? Skull merely shrugged and sat down, not bothered if the albino had correctly guessed the meat Skull had used or he had misunderstood and simply thought it was interesting that Skull had chosen to cook Japanese curry rather than Italian curry. Was there even an Italian version of curry?

Well, it's as they say. When in Rome do as Romans do. He needed some practice with his nonexistent social skills anyway.

"Would you like some?" He drawled as he reached for his previously discarded spoon. "Cooking is one of my specialties."

"No offence to the chef, but I much prefer ramen, even if it's instant. I personally feel that ramen is men's best inventions."

"Your loss then." Skull scooped a spoonful of curry and shoved it into his mouth. He continued, ignoring or not caring that his guest could see the food in his mouth as he talked. "So who're you? I need to put a name to your face - or I'll just end up just calling you Whitey."

"I've been entitled with many names... But you can just call me Uncle Kawahira."

"Sure thing, Kawahira." Uncle was thoroughly ignored.

There was silence as the two stared at each other. Kawahira looked expectant, but Skull really didn't know what to say since he had not held a conversation in forever - disregarding his time with the depressing git. "Great weather we're having tonight..."

Kawahira's lips twitched upwards, causing Skull to be confused. Wasn't that what people usually talk about? The weather? A look at the window solved everything. He was an idiot. It was raining. Heavily. So much for this being an interaction practice. He had probably killed the mood and raised an awkward atmosphere.

"Indeed, it is - I personally find the rain to be therapeutic. It seemly washes away the problems and calm me down." He paused to slurp more of his noodles. "To start it off, how about an introduction? I didn't catch your name."

That was because Skull had forgotten to introduce himself. And was that not sad. He was British, for Merlin's sake. Was he not raised to politely introduce himself before asking for another's name? Azkaban really did a number on him.

"Skull. Tell me your given name." Wait. That came out wrong - demanding. He should've asked with more... politeness?

Kawahira seemed to not have minded since the Japanese continued to eat his ramen with gusto.

"A wonderful name!" The albino chirped happily. Skull waited for the man to return the favor and give Skull his first name, but Kawahira only continued to enjoy his ramen.

"Thanks for the compliment?" He replied unsurely. Kawahira really destroyed whatever pace Skull was going. It was quite... refreshing actually. In a relaxing, fun way. Hard to describe what he was currently feeling.

"I assume that polite chatter isn't your expertise."

_You assumed correctly._ Was at the tip of Skull's tongue, but he downed it down with a glass of water. It was not his fault Dementors were not good with 'polite chatter'.

"So what do you want other than my charming company?"

"I'll just get to the point then." Kawahira pointed the tip of his chopsticks at Skull. He then smiled, and Skull swore to himself that the albino looked awfully suspicious with it. Please be suspicious! It would bring more fun to the game.

"Oh? Do tell." He leaned forward, his interest piqued.

Rather than answering, Kawahira pulled out a burgundy coloured pocket-sized notebook. It looked awfully like a passport. The albino then placed it on the table and pushed it gently towards Skull. With a questioning brow raised, he picked it up and flipped it open.

To his confusion and amazement, there was a photo of him there, hair dyed and with contact lenses, raising a brow at the camera - as if questioning the camera man's sanity. He recognized and recalled that the photo was taken soon after he had finished contouring his face and decided on a name. Now his curiosity was really aroused.

"Kawahira... Do you know the depressed git?" He tore his eyes away from his photo to stare straight at Kawahira. His own eyes were narrowed in a picture of seriousness, although if one were to look deeply enough, there was hidden mirth within.

As if not understanding what was being said, Kawahira blinked multiple times at Skull's question.

"I don't quite know who you're referring to."

"Oh? And how did you come across my photo and information required to make/forge a passport?"

Now it was Kawahira's turn to look like his pace had been broken. Actually, he just looked constipated. Skull almost cackled.

"Weren't you the one who left the manila folder on top of my nightstand?" Kawahira frowned before he suddenly went back to smiling. "Aw, don't tease me. I came because I agreed, and would like to make a deal with you."

"And why would I want to make an agreement with you?" Ugh. Not again. That came out wrong! He wasn't supposed to sound as if he was mocking the guy.

Also, Skull was absolutely lost but pretended to know whatever shite the man was sprouting.

Kawahira, on the other hand, dropped all smiles and bit his bottom lip - a gesture of nervousness. Skull did not expect the 180 switch. By their admittingly short time spent together, he had already came into the conclusion that the albino was a carefree sort of person. The matter must be really serious for the man to lose his 'mysterious yet carefree' aura.

"Please." Kawahira lowered his head, his shaking hands retreated underneath the table. "My race is dying. The only solution I can come up with is to form a deal with you, Death."

* * *

**A/N: This is still January so... HAPPY NEW YEAR! It's 2016! Wooooo... another step closer to my casket. **

Wao... Took me... So long to update. Ahem, anyway. I was cleaning my email and saw that there were new reviews for this fic. The thought that crossed my mind after reading them were; "Shite, I can't leave it like this!" So I immediately rushed to complete this chapter. Sorry if you spotted any mistakes!

To put it simply, I kind of forgot that this story existed. My mind is one-tracked. I even forgot that I was supposed to be editing my other stories (oops?).

Anyway, hopefully, this chapter wasn't such a disappointment. I had remembered having written a draft version of chapter 3, and this is the final result. The conversation was supposed to be longer and more carefree, but I somehow ended it with Kawahira begging. And was that not awkward? If the majority of you are dissatisfied with how this current chapter went, please tell me via Review/PM. I'll bring it down and replace it with my first draft version (though I'll edit it first. It's really rough). Argh, I suck at dialogues though.

[1] Geta

Story recommendation for today: **A Different Shade of Green** by Terri'smind. This story revolves around Teddy Lupin, who is also Verde. He made a bet with George and somehow ended up being 'Midori' for two months; the female version of Verde. Since we all know that Verde's hot as a guy, he might as well be a man-killer as a woman. When in a pub, Reborn took an interest in 'Midori' and after chasing 'her' around, was finally able to get into 'her' bed. Sadly, Reborn's mouth is his downfall since he said that if Midori were a guy, he wouldn't even look in 'his' direction. After that comment, Midori disappeared from his life. If you want to know more, READ IT! Teddy/Reborn Slash. Harry's the overprotective dad in this. Does this consider MPreg if Teddy can change to a female/male anytime?

**_Rainbows and Nervousness,_**  
**_GenderlessPerson_**


End file.
